Visit to a Dying Friend

 I got up early and drove to visit a dying friend to say goodbye and tell her I love her. She's not afraid, and accepts the end with grace.

Once home I took the dog for a walk and saw this shining masterpiece behind the yuccas in the driveway. It seemed a sign.

Then I happened on the bird, and they both spoke to me: This is how it is; this is how it ends. There is beauty; there is death. And they are intertwined in ways mysterious and profound. 

I will think about today for a long time to come. 

The Forest in Fall

She walks in dappled brown.
The trees, emboldened in
their bare embrace,
reach down, carress
her freckled frown
from their anchored
heights to touch her face

A pile of tiny bones,
ivory needles in forgotten
threads.  Small
among the roots and 
acorns put away,
peek out and shudder.
Hides itself away.

Circled round like fiddlefern,
tiny boxes -- vertebrae --
soft as chalk
and fragile whisper
under baby's breath,
"Don't leave."

She kneels, blinded by the dapples
darting through the trees
that sigh and shiver.
Enchanted by its size,
she lies beside it gently
Closes her eyes and smiles.